


Warm-Up Week: Rose / Love

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 105
Kudos: 73
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 1





	1. Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.
> 
> Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Clockwork  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 237  
> Warnings/Tags: Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

“Sentimental old fool,” Hermione chuckled, holding the stem of the white rose between her fingers before she lifted it to her nose to inhale the familiar scent. Her lips curved into a smile against the velveteen petals, before she placed the flower into the vase on the sill, just above the sink in the kitchen.

For their first date, Draco had given her a single white rose in an ornate crystal vase, the very same that sat on the windowsill in the kitchen. Thereafter, Hermione received one rose for every date until the day he proposed, during which she received an entire bouquet of the familiar white roses with a single red rose in the middle bearing her engagement ring. The ring was nearly lost to the river when she’d thrown her arms around his neck and the ring bounced out of the petals to land on the riverbank. They’d spent a good few minutes scrambling around looking for the priceless heirloom before either had thought to use a summoning spell. 

It hadn’t left her finger since. 

There had been diamonds, rare books, and trips to the Mediterranean over the years but the roses were Hermione’s favorite. They arrived like clockwork, by owl-post at least once per week. And even now, years after Draco’s death, the roses continued to arrive, reminding Hermione of exactly how much she loved her late husband and how much he loved her.


	2. Thorns Along the Path, Roses Across the Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Thorns Along the Path, Roses Across the Bridge  
> Rating: T+up  
> Word Count: 495  
> Warnings/Tags: mentions of anxiety/panic attack, grounding techniques, mention of pregnancy, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, marriage law, enemies to spouses to friends to lovers, soft Dramione in love, redeemed Malfoy family
> 
> AUTHOR: [fandomfairytales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales)

The muted, cold bite of the stone bench through the fabric of her pyjamas. Dewy grass under her bare feet, fresh and soothing. Leaves rustling in the eddying breeze. Not unlike the day she had first been brought to the Manor.

It felt like she hadn’t taken a breath in years, her lungs burned with the strain.

Footsteps crunching on gravel, still in the distance. He was coming. He would always come for her, for them. She understood how unconditional that statement was now.

It had taken months for Hermione to believe him when he said he could handle being there when she had nights like this… Her sweet Draco.

The marriage law had been hard on all of them in the wake of the war, Harry at least had the foresight to marry Ginny before it took effect; but she had been caught up in her fervid belief that the Ministry wouldn’t possibly enforce arranged matches. It was archaic… Barbaric… Regressive.

She had been an idealistic fool to trust them (shocking for someone so naturally logical and suspicious).

Under threat of arrest, she sat in Shacklebolt’s office and wept at the sight of her match on the Minister’s personal stationery.

On her wedding day, she carried blue roses, informing her groom in yet another way that he would never attain her.

Narcissa’s garden, filled with roses had quickly become her sanctuary and not once did Draco question her or try to invade. 

They had come such a long way since.

She’d called him husband before she called him a friend and yet all along, unbeknownst to her, his affection had blossomed like his mother’s hidden garden. And finally, after witnessing its sheer, honest beauty; the product of _their_ love began budding inside her. 

The man she knew had left behind the boy he’d been, like the last rose of summer; for that, she would always be grateful.

She inhaled deeply, awash with perfumed oxygen, Hermione Malfoy wished she could wrap herself in the calm, cloying scent of their bloom.

He didn’t say a word, approaching gently with thoughtful caution that made her heart sigh.

Warmth cloaked around her shoulders where her husband had draped his robe. His hands brushing her hair out of the way. Her skin prickling at his touch.

Her tension drained at last.

“Another nightmare, love?”

“Mmh, something like that.”

“Sure you’re alright out here in the night air?”

“I am, now that you’re here to warm me up.”

“You say that every time.”

“And you never complain, my darling.” She shuffled closer, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before curling into his side appreciatively.

“I know someone who might have a few things to say about it if she catches you out here in your condition.” He replied with a nudge and a fond smirk.

“Oh, please! We both know your mother has been harmless since I agreed to follow the Black family tradition.” 

"Hmm, perfect name though... _Rose_."


	3. Roses for Rememberance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Roses for Remembrance  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count : 407  
> Warnings and Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [Toya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toya/pseuds/Toya)

Hermione sighed watching her best friends twirl their dates around at the Remembrance Ball. She couldn’t believe that Voldemort was defeated ten years ago. The past decade had flown by. She’d accomplished so much and started working on new dreams, one of which starred a certain blond boy, more accurately a man, now. “That was a heavy sigh,” a somber voice stated behind her. She turned around and deflated a bit when she realized it was Neville. “Hey Neville,” she greeted quietly. Neville grinned at her. “I wasn’t the Pure-blood you were expecting were you?” He teased.

Despite her disappointment she laughed. “Not quite,” she admitted. “He promised he wouldn’t be late,” she fretted. “Calm down,” Neville soothed. “I’m sure he’ll be here on time. And to take your mind off of his impending arrival,” Neville swept into a low bow, “may I have this dance?” Laughingly, Hermione agreed fondly, thankful to have good friends on this night of all nights. The evening flew by in a bittersweet rush. Memories of the fallen were shared as were hopes for the future. As the Minister-elect Hermione was given the honor of the opening speech. Resigning herself to doing it without him she began to climb the dais to open dinner and speaking. As she was straightening her notes she saw him lift the disillusionment charm. Raising a brow, she made a mental note to get him on it later.

Later, as she was mingling, her boyfriend caught up to her. He kissed her brow and nodded to her friend Harry and his wife Luna. “Sorry I’m late luv, I just had this thing I needed to set up. I didn’t think it would take this long but the charm was a bit finicky in the end.” Hermione’s curiosity was piqued. “What charm? Maybe I can help,” excusing herself from the group the two walked toward the antechamber off of the main ballroom. In the antechamber were nine dozen of the most gorgeous roses Hermione had ever seen. Turning around to Draco she saw him on his knees with a beautiful solitaire diamond held out to her.

“Hermione, you are the love of my life. You are the first thing I think of when I wake and the last thought on my mind when I sleep. Everyday I wake with you beside me is a gift. Please be my wife?”

The whole ballroom cheered when she said yes.


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Home  
> Rating: Teen and up  
> Word Count: 498  
> No warnings apply  
> Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Love Confessions, Fluff, First Kiss, Hogwarts Eight Year
> 
> AUTHOR: [KoraKunkel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKunkel/pseuds/KoraKunkel)

She smelled like roses. 

Not the overbearing, sick to your stomach scent, but sweet and gentle. Like a warm summer breeze in a field of flowers, caressing your face in a tender touch.

She smelled like home—like everything good that had been and ever could be in his life. 

And Draco wanted more. 

He wanted the bashful looks, full of unsaid feelings. He wanted her cheeks to stain pink, to stain the colour of forbidden secrets, for him.

He wanted her, all of her.

“Hermione.” He greeted as he sat across from her at the table in the secluded corner of the library. At least if he made a fool of himself no one would know but them. 

Hermione arched an incredulous brow overtop the large tome in her hands. “Draco.” 

She didn’t look at him, which he was glad for. Her piercing amber eyes would see right through to the anxiety-ridden mess his soul had turned into. 

With a deep breath, Draco steeled himself. He had to do it. It was now or never and if he chose the latter, he would never summon the courage to confront her again. 

“I want you to be mine, Hermione.” 

Her honey-coloured orbs snapped up to his piercing grey with shock. The tome that had been supported by her hands thumped against the desk with an echo. 

“What?” 

Draco leant forward and gripped both of her now empty hands. The touch of her caramel skin sent a raging fire deep to his belly, and a jolt of electricity slid down his spine. Thinking she would keep her hands limp, he was surprised when Hermione gripped back. 

“I love you, Hermione. I don’t know when it started or how, but seeing you in that courtyard... You were so fearless. Strong. Brave. Everything I admire about you.” 

Draco’s heart began to race, and he could spy that blush he so longed for colour her cheeks.

“Be mine, Hermione. I know I don’t deserve you, but... I want to. I want to deserve you. I want to be good—for you. All for you.” 

Their eyes never left each other and he could see her thoughts race beneath the curls hanging in her face. With a gentle tug, Hermione pulled her hands free and stood. 

A lump formed in Draco’s throat. This was it, the moment she told him to never speak to her again. The moment his heart would break in two and never repair itself. 

But to his surprise, Hermione rounded the desk to stand beside him and placed her palms on his shoulders. Without a moment to comprehend what was happening, she leant down and pressed her lips to his. 

Eyes wide, it took Draco only a breadth of a second to realize she was kissing him. 

That she accepted him. 

Standing to wrap her in his arms, and return the passionate kiss, the familiar scent of roses engulfed him and only one feeling hummed through his veins.

He was home.


	5. Bone of Contention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Bone of Contention  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 370  
> Warning/Tags: Major Character Death; Grief.
> 
> AUTHOR: [thelastlynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastlynx/pseuds/thelastlynx)

It was a sunny day in May, uncharacteristically cold for this time of the year. Two people were standing at the far end of a throng of black and dreary robes, whispering amongst themselves.

Did you see the bouquet Malfoy brought? Unbelievable.

Wreath of wrath, said the other person, laughing hollowly.

I wonder what he thought, said the first. He must be confused, surely.

Thought? The other person snorted. I don’t think he spared anyone a thought, other than himself.

The queue edged forward.

Well. Person One sniffled. Maybe he was touched by her. Like we all were. You know…

Don’t believe it, said Person Two. And in any case, that’s hardly the way to show it.

Finally reaching the front, they, just like the numerous mourners before them, placed their flowers onto the casket. Person One conjured a wreath of Christmas roses.

Oh god. Look, said Person Two under their breath, nodding towards the sepulchral arrangement. A shame, they said louder, addressing the hosts. We’re so, so sorry.

So sad, said Person One, and gave out hugs to all the teary-eyed people lining the casket like a string of black pearls. What a tragedy.

Thank you for coming, said Harry Potter thickly, pulling Ginny Weasley tightly to his side. Silent tears were dripping down her face while she kept nodding to nobody in particular, her shoulders quaking.

Yeah, thanks, said Ron Weasley. He was hard-faced and staring at the back of the row. Hermione would’ve been so happy to see _everyone_ united at her grave.

Person Two snorted again which got them an elbow in the rib by Person One. They retreated, once again gaping at the simple light-brown casket, slightly elevated and buried beneath a sea of flowers. Most were white, lilies or callas, pristine and in full bloom, just like the young woman laying inside who’d barely reached her twenties — except for an enormous, deep red bouquet of thornless roses.

Indecent, said Person Two, pursing their lips. A disgrace.

What was he thinking, Person One replied, shaking their head. Doesn’t he know the first thing about the language of flowers?

Unbelievable. Person Two nodded gravely.

They turned back, debating where to go for lunch.


	6. Current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Current  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: None Apply
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

_Tell us how you fell in love during the war._

That question is so fucking daft that for a moment I debate leaving the sittingroom and letting Hermione deal with this dunderhead alone. Annoyance rolls through my body like electricity, igniting my limbs, sending my nerves on fire, bringing tension to every small muscle and then suddenly she's there.

She lays a hand on my thigh, the gentle pressure a small ground to the wayward current that was my sharply lined instinct and once again, I am reminded precisely why I agreed to this mess.

Why I love her.

“It wasn’t planned.” That much was obvious. Anyone who knew a damn thing about our past would never question _that_. I shifted on the too hard couch, internally reminding myself to replace this horrid excuse for furniture before our next round of interviews began. I might have to put up with this shit show of a media parade for the sake of our engagement, but I could at least do it comfortably. Hermione would undoubtedly complain—she always did when I spent money, but secretly she’d thank me later. This couch is horrible.

“We were not exactly friends, but we were forced to work together shortly after…” My voice trails as memories of that time float back to the forefront of my consciousness and I almost lose myself in the onslaught. Professor Dumbledore’s death, my aunt running through the halls, Professor Snape’s sharply lined words and the smell of sulfur. It’s all so fucking real I can taste it.

But there she is again, grounding me. Squeezing my thigh, encouraging me with that soft smile.

I clear my throat, tongue sweeping across my lips before I look away from Hermione and turn back to the toad-like creature that is the reporter from _The Daily Prophet_ and force a too tight smile onto my lips.

“Sorry.” I don’t mean it, but it’s the polite thing to say—that's what Hermione would say, anyways. “We were forced to work together shortly after the start of our Seventh Year. The world was dark… especially at Hogwarts. Our classes were dreadful, the papers were not reporting a single column of good news and Merlin only knew what was _really_ happening out there, but Hermione was that sliver of hope. She was like the sun peaking through the clouds after a storm.

“It didn’t happen right away, and truthfully, I pretended to hate her for longer than I care to admit, but it happened. One day I woke up and knew. Despite the war, and every reason that would make it impossible for me to love her, I knew and I promised myself that I would do whatever I could to fix the mistakes I made—to make amends for my past, if you will, so we could be together.”

Hermione beams at me, the corners of her eyes watery in that beautiful weepy sort of gaze, and for just one more moment all's right with the world.


	7. Charm Your Pants Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Charm Your Pants Off  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 494  
> Warnings: No warnings apply  
> Tags: Sarcasm/Snark, Flirting, Fluff, Romance, Roses, Charms, Hogwarts Professors
> 
> AUTHOR: [StoneAndRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses)

“Roses are a bit pedestrian, don’t you think Granger?” he asked, walking into her classroom.

She smirked, “So it worked then?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean making all of my sixth year Hufflepuffs swoon at the fact that I have a ‘secret’ admirer, then go into a frenzy about who it could be while my Ravenclaws all desperately tried to figure out how the magic worked, then yes, ‘it’ worked. I’ve officially lost control of that class for at least a week.”

Draco knew that Hermione was asking about the new charm she had invented. She had been able to get his grading ink pot to transform into roses when he said her name, impressive magic. But he wouldn’t let her win that easily.

“I more so meant that my gift worked. I’m impressed you lasted two weeks before saying ‘Professor Granger’ in your classroom.”

He smiled, their banter hadn’t let up over the holidays despite not seeing each other much at all.

“Why would I need to talk about Transfiguration, let alone the professor of the subject, in Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Oh how he had missed riling her up.

“You know perfectly well that there are many uses for transfiguration-”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. She had transitioned into full encyclopedia mode due to lack of acknowledgement of how clever she was. 

“Your spell work was very clever. But I normally don’t use _any_ of my colleagues' names in class. However, one of our brilliant Ravenclaws asked a question based on one of your assignments.”

“Stephens is basically a genius, but she needs to settle down a little.”

He laughed, “Reminds me quite a lot of this witch I went to school with…”

Hermione’s face lit up and she laughed as well. “I have it on good authority that the witch in question is much more relaxed now.”

“Yes, but that witch is also a swot, and like every good pureblood knows the meanings behind flowers. Are you proposing a shift in our… _relationship_ , Granger? More romance, perhaps?”

Draco was nervous. Although he loved their casual agreement that allowed him to pull her into alcoves and bend her over his desk, he was starting to catch feelings. They had taken hold, akin to a doxy infection.

“I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t notice because you were so impressed with my magic,” she said studying her shoes.

“Although I was very impressed, I was more excited about getting to officially take you on a date. I’m going to romance the pants off you Granger.” 

She blushed, “I think it’s a little late for that.”

“Maybe, but now we can wine and dine, and have tea with Mother, and go on holiday together. The possibilities are endless.”

Draco circled his hand with a flourish, conjuring one perfect red rose to hand her across the desk.

She grinned mischievously, taking the rose from him and asked, “So where should I put my pants?”


	8. The Color of Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Color of Roses  
> Rating: T+  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: No warnings apply, fluff, friends to lovers, falling in love
> 
> AUTHOR: [miss-eee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss-eee/pseuds/miss-eee)

On August 3rd, 1998, Hermione Granger came back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. The trials following the war had been swift, most of the wizarding world was ready to move forward, as so was she. For Hermione, ready to move forward meant heading back to Hogwarts in just under a month to finish her education.

As she pushed open the third door on the left at the top of the stairs, her eyes were starting to blur. Her bag unceremoniously landed on the floor, her shoes quickly following. Her summer had been spent preparing witness statements, attending court hearings, and rereading her textbooks in anticipation of the coming school year. 

On her desk amongst all of her textbooks, sat a new bouquet of beautiful roses. Peach, representing gratitude. She searched for a letter, only finding a simple card signed “D.M.”

* * *

On September 19th, 1999, Hermione Granger came back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place feeling slightly inebriated. Harry and Ron had insisted on going to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate her birthday, and what had started as just a small gathering of friends had quickly expanded to a large Hogwarts reunion as Ron had quickly invited all members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She’d watched him from across the room, choosing to sit in a booth with only Blaise and Theo instead of mingling with the crowd. She knew these things made him uncomfortable, and the fact that he’d come out at all tonight spoke volumes of how far their friendship had come. 

His eyes caught hers, piercing grey staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she had to remind herself again that friends were all they were. The roses that had arrived in her office that morning meant just that. Yellow for friendship and a simple card signed “D.M.”

* * *

On May 8th, 2000, Hermione Granger came back to her flat after an exhausting day in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was running late, and she couldn’t be late because she knew that at exactly 6PM, he would step through her floo, which meant that she had just under an hour to prepare herself. Her mind was racing with nervous thoughts, mentally taking stock of her closet afraid the black dress she’d settled on with Ginny the night before might now not be perfect. 

She almost darted past them, she was moving so fast. But there, in the middle of her kitchen table, sat a newly arrive bouquet of roses. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed by a new kind of nervousness as she took in their coral color, desire in their hidden meaning. She knew as she reached for the card that it would be signed simply, “D.M.”

* * *

On the day of their wedding, the roses in her bouquet were white, symbolizing new beginnings. . Tucked away hidden in the stems, a card that simply read, “D.M.”


	9. Say It Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Say It Loud  
> Rating: General  
> Word Count: 471  
> Warnings: None Apply
> 
> AUTHOR: [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko)

Hermione stomps through the ministry, grumbling and all together put out. She hardly notices when Malfoy sidles up beside her and falls into step.

“Where to in such a hurry, Granger?”

“Well, not my office since it’s retching up flowers at the moment.”

Draco slows his step, faltering, then keeps pace one more. “That doesn’t sound so terrible,” he tries. “Who doesn’t like flowers?”

She scoffs, but doesn’t stop. “Flowers are fine enough, but the room is floor to ceiling roses, and they won’t be charmed or magically removed. Some sort of counterspell or ward on them. I’m going to kill him.”

“I.. wait. Kill whom? I’m afraid I’m having trouble following.” 

“McLaggen,” she hisses out. “I know it was him. I’ve been turning down his advances for months. Just like him to do something this trite. Red roses?” She scoffs again, eyes rolling. “Didn’t even have the imagination for a less cliche show of interest.”

“Right,” her colleague answers. “Of course. Absolutely worst sort of declaration.”

“The living worst.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Granger,” he says and doesn’t wait for her reply before speeding toward the lifts.

By Draco’s calculations, Granger has probably made it to magical maintenance by the time he reaches her office. He closes the door and begins muttering the spells to breakdown his own wards and protections. He had placed them only to ensure the flowers stayed fresh, vibrant, and healthy for as long as possible. He never imagined she would guess so poorly as to the source of the virtual garden he left for her.

Trite? He might be offended if he were not in such a panic to fix this.

Once the roses are all gone, Draco transfigures one last red rose into a small cluster of forget-me-nots and pens a short note to leave beside it. 

When Hermione returns a few minutes later, her office is empty of both flowers and wizards, and she apologizes to maintenance for wasting their time. “Perhaps they were only an illusionary spell?” she offers with a small and uncomfortable laugh. They leave, and she closes the door by leaning against it, slightly weary by the frantic start to her morning. 

As she approaches her desk, tossing her robes over her chair and settling in to start her day, she notices the unobtrusive blue blossoms and a square parchment in the center of her cluttered desk. 

Cautiously, she lifts the note and reads, her life clicking into place.

_“Too much, then? I thought I had to be loud for you to hear me. Perhaps a quieter approach…_

_I’ll be in conference room C for an hour. Your presence or lack thereof can be your answer_

_DM”_

Hermione Granger, who attends some of the worst meetings of her career in that particular room, has never run there so fast.


	10. A Visit to St. Mungo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A visit to St. Mungos  
> Rating: T+  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: Effects of a curse
> 
> AUTHOR: [LadyLionBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionLadyBee/pseuds/LionLadyBee)

I absolutely hated this place. I know she loved working here and she loved her co-workers but I couldn’t stand it. Walking through the door this morning I smelled the scent of cleaning agents and magic. “I don’t want to be in any other Hospital except St. Mongos, it’s the cleanest one I know.” She once said. Being open since the 1600’s I would hope so, Merlin knows us Malfoys put enough money into this place for it to not be. 

The elevator ride up to the fourth floor was quiet and left me to my thoughts, it turned out to be short this time around as opposed to yesterday when I got stopped on every floor while someone got on to go to the top. As the door dinged and I got out, I walked down the corridor to the check-in station. “Hello Draco, nice to see you again.” The nurse sitting down said. 

I was familiar with my way around here, but I couldn’t help miss seeing the face of my wife sitting in the very seat, which as now occupied. Signing my name to let them know I was here for visiting hours, I made my way down the hall to room 42. 

The blinds were closed which meant no one had been here, since I closed them last night. I opened them then began settling into my normal routine. The vase by her bed had now held dead flowers in it. I threw them away, ducked into the bathroom that was adjacent to her bed, and filled it back up. I then collected the purple roses I brought with me and put them in the vase. They were her favorite and every few days I brought her new ones. They used to make her smile every time I would bring them home for her. The first time I tried to tell her I loved her I had some in my hand but before the words came out she said to me “You know Draco, purple roses are my favorite, it means you’ve fallen….in love.” The look on her face and twinkle in her eye was something I wanted to make happen for the rest of my life. I was completely and wholly in love with her. I found my self smiling thinking back on it. 

After I took care of that, I smoothed her hair back and rest my lips upon hers. Then I pulled the chair close to her bed and sat down. There in the bed laid my wife, and I felt like such a defeated man it was our 8th wedding anniversary after all. Our life together would be filled with days of me meeting her here. I tried all I could but every day a piece of me died with her. 

It tore me up inside to see my beautiful bride Hermione Granger, succumbed to Dolohov's curse. I was a damned man, I had been too late to save her.


	11. The Fine Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Fine Print  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP)

Blondie: _Did you get my gift?_

She chewed her lip.

Hermione: _They’re amazing! Did you have a trace telling you when they were delivered?_

It wasn’t a complete lie. The huge bouquet was amazing.

Blondie: _What kind of shoddy delivery service doesn’t have a trace?_

GinNTonic: _Does Draco know you at all?_

Apparently, Ginny had popped into Harry’s office today.

Hermione: _It’s the thought that counts_

GinNTonic: _I just double checked to make sure I hadn’t accidentally texted my mum_

Blondie: _Want to know what else I’d love to trace? *tongue emoji* *peach emoji*_

Hermione: _*eyeroll emoji*_

GinNTonic: _You hate roses. Everyone knows that._

Pans: _Ron Floo-called, laughing smugly. Did Draco really send you roses?_

Did anyone in the Auror office have actual work to do?

Nott: _Roses are red, violets are blue, Draco’s an idiot, he doesn’t deserve you_

That answered her question.

Hermione (to Ginny): _It’s Valentine’s Day - it’s traditional_

Hermione (to Pansy): _Aren't roses a traditional sort of thing for Valentine’s Day?_

Hermione (to Theo): _You’re a git_

Hermione (to Draco): _Is there an extra fee for that service? *winky face*_

Blondie: _We can negotiate a trade_

Hermione: _Let me know the price during lunch. You’re coming to my office first, right?_

Blondie: _I’d like to be coming IN your office, but I’d make sure you came first._

Her reply was made moot when—

Blondie: _Pansy just messaged me some nonsense about Weasley saying I sent you roses?_

Pans: _Draco said he didn’t send the flowers because roses on Valentine’s Day are gauche. He sent Gerbera Daisies._

TBWL: _Ron thinks I need to check your roses for dark magic_

Oh great, now Harry was involved.

GinNTonic: _I agree with Ron_

GinNTonic: _You just looked to make sure you hadn’t accidentally texted my mum, didn’t you?_

Mrs Weasley didn’t own a mobile, as far as Hermione knew.

Blondie: _I sent you Gerbera Daisies. Your favorite flower. Not bloody roses._

She snapped a picture of the overflowing vase.

Blondie: _I’m owling the florist to complain_

Nott: _I overheard Red saying she knew something was wrong when roses arrived instead of daisies. I assumed something was wrong when **flowers** arrived._

Blondie: _The owl came back. There’s microscopic print - if they can’t fill an order, they have the right to substitute flowers of their choosing, as long as the arrangement is of equal value._

Hermione (to Pansy): _Stop riling everyone up_

Hermione (to Ginny): _If you want my flowers checked for dark magic, I want you checked for the Imperious. YOU AGREED WITH RON!_

Hermione (to Ron): _Did you send pansies to Pansy again this year?_

Hermione (to Harry): _I know how to check my own deliveries for dark magic, thanks. Shall I come teach you how to cast Expelliarmus?_

Hermione (to Draco): _Owl back. Threaten that your father will hear about this. Or Neville. They’ll probably be more frightened of Neville._

Hermione (to Theo): _Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m your boss, and your yearly review is due_


	12. By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: By Any Other Name  
> Rating: T and up  
> Word Count: 496  
> Warnings/Tags: no trigger warnings, tags can include #MinistryWorkerHermione and #MinistryWorkerDraco
> 
> AUTHOR: [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/pseuds/FaeOrabel)

_“A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet,  
A muggleborn, by any other status, would be as intelligent, beautiful, captivating.”_

_-Yours_

It was yet another letter Hermione had received at her office. It was in that same script that she swore she knew, if she could only figure out where. 

“Oi, Hermione, are you listening?” 

“Sorry, Malfoy, I don’t know where my head is at,” Hermione apologized to her partner. 

They were put on a case together, both being well-renowned for getting the job done in their departments. Hermione had taken a job with the DR-CMC a couple years out of Hogwarts, first studying with a magizoologist. 

Malfoy had become a Magical Lawyer. The DMLE had never seen anyone so vicious in the courtroom. 

“Well, it's probably with whatever is in that drawer you’re glaring at,” Malfoy teased and sat back in his chair, a sign of ‘we’re taking a break from work.’ 

“It’s stupid,” Hermione grumbled and sat back as well, putting her pen down to take a break from taking all their notes. 

“The blush on your cheeks says otherwise,” Malfoy commented, furthering the blush that Hermione was sporting. 

“I’ve been receiving… letters,” Hermione whispered. She wasn’t sure why she was telling _Malfoy_ this when she had kept it a secret from _Harry_. But she had to admit, Malfoy and she had gotten close these last few months. 

“Letters?” Malfoy sat up straight. “If you’re receiving threats Granger, you should report it.”

“No,” she said quickly, “no. Not those kinds of letters. Romantic ones.”

Malfoy relaxed his posture again and smirked at her. That infuriating smirk Hermione hated because it did things to her stomach she wasn’t ready to recognize. 

“Oh, well that’s different then. If they’re romantic, why are you glaring at them so fiercely?”

“Because I don’t know who’s sending them! They never sign their name and I swear I know the handwriting. It’s perfectly loopy and quite poncy.” Hermione paused. “It makes me wonder if I‘m receiving them from a woman,” Hermione stood and began to pace behind her chair. 

Malfoy’s face darkened and he grumbled under his breath. Hermione noticed the reaction and decided to go for the final blow. 

“I should just set them on fire if the person is too cowardly to even approach me,” she said with a false air of indifference and opened the drawer.

Malfoy was out of his seat faster than a seeker chasing a snitch. He slammed the drawer closed and pushed Hermione up against it. 

His lips traced the shell of her ear, his hands gripping her hips. 

“How long have you known?” Malfoy whispered, kissing down her neck. 

“You just confirmed it,” Hermione was out of breath from his quick reflexes. 

Malfoy scoffed lightly, “Have you never heard of seducing a woman?”

“I’m impatient.” And with that, Hermione captured his lips in a kiss that had them locked in her office hours after the end of the work day.


	13. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Longing  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 493  
> Warnings/Tags: None, UHEA(?)
> 
> AUTHOR: [kurisutenchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurisutenchan/pseuds/kurisutenchan)

The spring air was filled with distant laughter and the sounds of a creaking swing set. Two children ran the length of a manicured lawn, smiles alight on their faces as they enjoyed the evening breeze.

Draco stood some 50 yards away, cloaked in the shade of a great big tree and a handful of spells. He watched over the stout picket fence bordering their domain and the rest of the suburb. A girl, fair-haired and only as old as he had fingers on one hand, tore through the grass as she chased a toddling boy.

If their lineage was to be doubted, it would not be on his side. Curly headed as they were, their bright, gray eyes and pale flaxen hair did not lie. He could only be thankful that they’d inherited their mother’s rounded cheeks and expressive eyes, for the warmth it allowed them despite their frosty coloring. 

The little girl paused, her head snapping towards the house, while the boy continued his trek across the yard. The melodious voice of their mother beckoned to them from a small curtained window—to him, even at such a distance—to come in for the evening. Upon her mother’s command, the little girl skipped to the side door and her bouncing curls left his sight.

After a few moments, a bushy head poked out from the same door, eyes searching for the giggling boy halfway across the lawn. She called his name once, twice, and a third, more stern, time before he paused. His lips curled into a pout and he stomped his little boot in protest—a response that was so _Draco_ even without the influence of his father. His mother smiled and moved to hold the door open, gesturing him in, and though it was reluctant, the boy waddled to her.

Draco watched her bend to greet the toddler, sweeping him into her arms and planting kisses on his chubby cheek as he giggled. The boy ran on past her and disappeared in the direction of his sister. His heart lurched to follow and he took an unconscious step forward, foot landing on a branch with a loud _crack!_

She froze in the doorway, and though he could not see her face he could tell by her posture that the wheels were turning in her head. His breath caught in his chest, anxiously watching as she turned to face out and her brown eyes scanned the landscape until they fell on the tree he had chosen as cover. 

He knew that Hermione couldn’t see him, that she wouldn’t recognize him even if she did somehow see past the charms he’d placed over himself, but her gaze still met his, even if she was unaware. For a moment they both were still. Draco's heart clenched at the longing she mirrored as her knowing eyes searched for something more in the distance.

She frowned and turned to follow their children inside.


	14. Bloody Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Bloody beautiful  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 300  
> Warnings/Tags: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Falling in love, Romance, Yearning
> 
> AUTHOR: [FemmeBrulee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e/pseuds/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e)

"What's your favourite flower, Draco?" she asks him one evening as they stand on the veranda and watch a gently flaming sunset.

He chuckles, the edge of his lips curling up at the question. "No more silly questions, Granger."

"Just answer it."

"I don't have one."

"Of course you do. Everyone does."

"Not me" he says, running his fingers through his hair. "I think flowers serve a purely functional purpose. Reproduction. Pollination. And then when that's all over, decoration on some poor sod's mantelpiece."

"That's a horrible answer."

"You did ask," he winks.

"But there has to be one that catches your eye."

"Trust me, there isn't."

"I bet it's the lily," she muses. "Stark, white, minimalist."

"It isn't."

She rounds on him, her eyebrow raised and a tiny smile dancing on her lips. "So you _do_ have a favourite?"

He frowns. "I never said that."

"You just said it wasn't the lily. Which means there must be something else."

"Enjoying yourself, Granger?"

"Maybe it's the Giant Birthwort. Or the Hideous Sea Onion. Or -"

He mumbles something and looks away.

"Did you say something, Draco?"

"Rose," he says softly.

She smiles. "I didn't expect that."

"But you expected a great ugly sea onion, or whatever-"

"Why the rose, Draco?"

He is silent for a while, the last of the sun's flame flickering in his grey eyes.

"Because it's the best thing to see on a rainy morning," he says, turning to look at her. "It's strong and proud. It's complex and full of things you didn't notice the first time. It's bloody beautiful from afar, but get too fresh and you'll wish you hadn't."

She laughs, her head tilting back and her curls tumbling down her shoulders. She catches his eye and something in his heart twists.

_Bloody beautiful._


	15. In Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Bloom  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [Tygermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygermine/pseuds/Tygermine)

Hermione had a small secret.

It sat on the inside of her left wrist and stayed covered by a glamour when she was out and about.

This little secret was the result of a wild weekend she had in Amsterdam with Harry and Ron after the Battle of Hogwarts. Forty-eight hours of unbarred hedonism in a city that not only allowed it, but encouraged it.

The rose tattoo was a simple little design. A few lines to represent a flower on the verge of blooming. 

The problem with this secret is that over the past few weeks, it started misbehaving whenever she was in the vicinity of Draco Malfoy.

She could feel it tingle under her skin, as if she was getting it inked for the very first time whenever Malfoy was within a few feet of her and recently, that had been often and for far too long if you asked her.

Hermione wanted to blame Shacklebolt and the naive optimism that Harry inspired in him as that was the only reason that she had to spend the past month working with Malfoy to plan the anniversary celebrations.

Personally, Hermione had plans to spend the anniversary working on her tan on a Greek island. Malfoy had grouched about having his own plans that involved him being anywhere but England over that weekend.

So here they were, working in one of the conference rooms in the Ministry arguing over parade floats and bunting while the entire time the inside of Hermione’s wrist itched and burned. 

“Have you got some sort of infestation on your clothes?”

“Excuse me?” Hermione froze with her right hand digging into her left wrist through the thick knit jersey she wore.

“You’re fidgeting and it’s annoying.”

Draco had not been very eloquent during their planning, answering suggestions with grunts and shrugs. This was the most he’d spoken to her since they had been all but forced into the conference room about two weeks ago. 

“It’s nothing,” she released her sleeve and picked up her quill to make notes on her to do list. “Did we ever hear back from the Orphan and Widow’s Choir?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Have you tried a different cleaning spell? Sometimes the pronunciation can affect the material you’re trying to clean.”

Wait. What? 

“What?” Hermione was ashamed that she spluttered the question.

“Cleaning spells. Unless you don’t clean your clothes at all.” He looked at her from across the table. “Is it a bug bite? Have you got bed bugs, Granger?”

He leaned over and gently took her wrist in his hands. Malfoy slid the sleeve of her jersey up her arm and muttered a counterspell to the glamour.

The rose was revealed. 

Only now, it was fully bloomed with dark red petals.

“Huh,” she exhaled.

Malfoy’s eyes raked over her body. “Have you got any more artwork hidden under those layers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He nodded and licked his lips. “I’d definitely like to find out.”


	16. Miss You, Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Miss you, Love you  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 470  
> Warnings/Tags: Minor Character Death, Getting Back Together
> 
> AUTHOR: [Weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weestarmeggie/pseuds/Weestarmeggie)

“You’re the one who’s been leaving the roses then.”

His words cut through her and she froze, bent over his mother’s grave. 

She flicked her eyes at him and stood slowly, nodding her head, not trusting herself to speak. Draco nodded and turned his head, peering out over the cliff, where Narcissa had demanded she be lay to rest, and watched the sea crash onto the beach below them. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, robes hanging loosely over his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure who it was.”

“Draco I —”

“Most people always assumed her favourites were —”

“Daffodils.” She finished, shaking her head. Draco turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “I know. I remember. As if she’d ever be that cliche.” Hermione said quietly, the corner of her mouth lifting as she shot Draco a small smile.

He jerked his head in a nod and Hermione suddenly realised that they were alone. The first time since they’d broken up over a year ago. 

She stepped towards him, one hand raised to grasp at him before she wrapped it around herself instead. “I’m really sorry.”

His eyes flicked to meet hers, dropping down to her lips - which were suddenly dry - before he lifted them and met hers once more. “It’s not your fault.”

Narcissa Malfoy had suffered a stroke and died one afternoon during tea with Hermione, but she was sure, in that moment, that Draco wasn’t referring to that. 

“Draco —”

“I miss you.” 

She stepped up beside him and dropped her arms. Her pinky finger grazed the back of his hand as she whispered, “I miss you too.”

“But?”

She peered up at him and shook her head. She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “But nothing. Are you ready to come home now?”

“Been ready for a while.” He pulled her forwards and Hermiones arms wrapped around him as he stroked her hair from her face and murmured, “been scared.”

“I know,” she mumbled. “Me too.”

“I’ll be better.”

“I would never ask you for anything you couldn’t give to me Draco.”

He laughed and averted his gaze but Hermione watched him wipe the back of his hands across his cheeks and take a deep breath before he leant down and pressed his lips to hers. 

“I don’t deserve you Granger,” he breathed into her mouth. “But I do love you.”

She grinned into his mouth, “I love you too.” She pulled back, tugging him back towards the apparition point; they paused as he pressed a kiss to his fingers and swiped them across Narcissa’s headstone before he knelt and placed a stasis spell over the roses Hermione had been bringing weekly for almost nine months. 

When he looked back up at her he said, “let's go home.”


	17. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Little Things  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 472  
> Warnings/Tags: Explicit Language
> 
> AUTHOR: [TwistedTurtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedTurtle/pseuds/TwistedTurtle)

A bouquet of red roses. How fucking cliche, thought Hermione Granger. She should be happy for her best friend Ginny. It is Valentine’s day and it is objectively nice. Although she supposed that’s what she could expect from her best friend, Harry. In his defense, Ginny is rather pleased with them and that’s all that should matter.

Thinking further she realized that roses just weren’t her style of romance. Real romance is much harder and far more subtle than that, she decided. The art of saying “I love you” through one’s actions aren’t big gestures, it is the little things that are _so often_ taken for granted. It is brushing a lock of hair back into place even though it would never truly stay, reading a book you hate because someone else loved it, the push to go to bed when studying was no longer productive and so many other small actions. A single bouquet of roses, while flashy, was not romance; but she supposed it is a nice gesture especially on a day such as this. 

She sighed and chanced a glance at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall, catching the eye of one particular grey-eyed blonde. Nothing more than a subtle smile graced her lips before she turned away and moved on with her day. 

It may have been a holiday but she had many obligations to attend to between classes, studying, and head girl duties. When she finally arrived back at the shared Head Girl and Head Boy dorm, she promptly laid down on the couch intending to read a bit, but before she could finish the first page she had already fallen into slumber.

…

Draco Malfoy was parched. He’d been hiding in his room since arriving back from dinner, afraid to run into the head girl. He had forgotten to get Hermione a gift for Valentine’s Day and figured she would be upset. _Most witches like to be acknowledged on Valentine’s Day, even if your relationship is a secret to the rest of the world_ , thought Draco. Looking at the time and realizing how late it was he figured Hermione should be in her room by now. It was probably safe to get a glass of water.

He tiptoed out to their shared common room. Then, he spotted her. She was draped on the couch, book on her chest, hair everywhere, and a soft snore coming from her. He sighed. _Not again, she always worked so hard_ thought Draco. He gathered her in his arms, doing his best not to jostle her, walked over to her room, and placed her in her bed. She was just blinking her eyes open when he was tucking her in. Seeing that soft smile on her face, Draco couldn’t help but whisper for the first time “I love you”.


	18. Osiria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Osiria  
> Rating: K  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: No warnings
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

There were few things Narcissa loved more than her time in the rose garden. Yes, elves could do the work, but the roses were her pride and joy. She had been an excellent Herbology student, and after her marriage, the garden had been her escape. Narcissa loved digging in the dirt — properly gloved, of course. 

Her favorite rosebush was the Osiria. It was planted at the center of the garden. Most had never seen a bloom like it, each petal a deep red on the inside, but somehow, white on the outside. It was quite striking. Together, the colors spoke to love, marriage, and new beginnings. While it had started as a small cutting, she had carefully nurtured the plant year after year until it had grown to be the star of her collection. It had outdone itself this spring and Narcissa was just waiting for its buds to break. 

In the garden, Narcissa could let her thoughts wander as she plucked weeds and pruned, hidden between the roses. She let her mind drift to her other favorite subject, her son. Draco had sauntered down to breakfast with a spring in his step and Mippy had whispered that he had not been home last night. He probably thought he was being secretive, but her son had always been an open book to her, much like she could tell what her roses needed even though they didn’t speak.

For many years, she had listened to Draco complaining about the swotty, bushy-haired girl who continually bested him at Hogwarts. Narcissa had held her son back, for both of their safety, when the girl was tortured in their home. The complaining began anew when Draco started working with her at the Ministry last year. But several months ago, he had stopped talking about her at all — and that in itself spoke volumes. 

Mippy had mentioned that Draco had brought Miss Granger to visit their library a few weeks ago, although he hadn’t summoned Mippy to bring tea. “Mistress, how is we having guests with no refreshments?” 

And now, this latest development. Things must be serious between her son and Miss Granger. And while the girl was a muggle-born, Narcissa would not begrudge her son his happiness.

Having finished the row, Narcissa stood and made her way to her prized bush. Upon reaching it, however, she gasped in shock. Instead of a vibrant bush full of barely opening buds, its branches were nearly bare. All that was left of the precious blooms were a few stragglers. Had he asked, she would have pointed him to a myriad of options — anything but the Osiria, but she herself had schooled her son in the language of flowers, and he had chosen well.

She sighed and began pruning the empty stalks. There was always next year. Yes, she would make sure that all of her roses looked their best by then. After all, a June wedding among the roses would be just perfect.


	19. Kiss From a Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Kiss From A Rose  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 496 before the HTML coding  
> Warnings/Tags: Stalker!Draco
> 
> AUTHOR: [TheMourningMadam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam)

Draco positioned himself across the street from Hermione’s townhouse, a clear view into her bedroom window aligning perfectly with his table. His heart thundered dangerously in his chest as he ran over multiple scenarios in his mind, all of which ended with her in his tight embrace.

His eyes flickered to his watch. _Quarter past seven._ She would be disembarking from the Tube right about now. Then a quick three minute walk home. He’d watched her carefully for nearly a month, learning her new daily routines. She may have moved into the Muggle world in an attempt to forget what they’d shared, but a change in scenery brought very few changes to her usual actions. _Too predictable._

Draco figured he could forgive her for walking out on him. Their relationship had gotten heavy and she never was one to handle stress well. He knew she didn’t mean the things she’d said. _“You’re demented!”_ she’d shrieked. _“Get a mind Healer before you end up hurting someone!”_ Words spoken out of anger—Hermione knew he would never hurt her. He loved her. 

When she rounded the corner, pulling her keys from her bag, Draco glanced around and promptly placed a Disillusionment Charm on himself. It wouldn’t do to be seen so soon. Hermione needed to see her surprise first. He’d spent all afternoon perfecting it.

His back slid down in his chair as he hid behind magic, smiling widely at her appearance. She truly was a vision, mouthwatering and heavenly. Draco often fell to his knees in rapture during their long nights together. His fingertips twitched and his pulse quickened at the mere thought of how this night would end. 

Hermione collected the post from her slot and opened the door, calling out to her kneazle as she did. Draco hated that bloody beast, and it had been all too easy to shoo him out of the door earlier in the day. Lights flicked on as she walked the path from her living room, to the corridor, and finally to her bedroom. _Here it comes!_ The moment Draco had waited for since arriving in London a month prior. 

The mail slipped from her hands as she raised both hands to her face. Her eyes darted around the room and beyond the window to the world beyond. He could see that she was shaking as she tiptoed over the rose petals he’d arranged on the floor. She lifted the scarlet rose from her pillow, reading the card attached _(I’m not ready to let you go)_ as she fumbled in her pocket. 

Her mobile was to her ear before she even made it out of her room. When she stepped out into the night, frantically searching him out, Draco removed the Disillusionment Charm. Her gaze landed on him and her mouth parted in disbelief. 

Draco lifted one hand in a wave, giving her his best smile. In turn, she grimaced and backed toward her doorway.

 _Don’t be afraid. I love you_.


	20. Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Slowly  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 342  
> Warnings/Tags: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik)

He fell in love with her mouth first. 

It was difficult not to with all the time she spent talking at him, explaining why she was right and he was wrong.

Pink and full, her lips were distracting, and he frequently found himself losing arguments simply because he was paying no attention to her words.

Her hair was next; of course it was. It was hard to miss the way it floated around her head, the ends getting frizzier the more wound up she got while defending whatever lost cause she'd taken up arms for that week. The wild mane he'd found so odious in school now charmed him.

He started to look forward to their encounters, to seeing her at a table across the aisle from him in one of the Wizengamot halls. Debates were a delight when she was his opponent.

And she was. Often. The Ministry of Magic found themselves up against her on a regular basis. As a private solicitor, she took only the cases she truly cared about, and when those cases involved the Ministry, Draco was there to represent them.

The sharpness of her tongue and the depth of her intelligence rocked him on a daily basis. She was quick, far cleverer than any prosecution he'd ever been face-to-face with. 

Eventually, her hands became a part of his obsession, dainty things with slim fingers and meticulously tidy nails. She used them sparingly when stating her case, firm gestures to get her point across.

When he kissed her for the first time, her mouth was even better than he'd imagined in all that time spent staring at the wonder that was Hermione Granger. 

The first morning he woke up to hair in his face, all he could do was bat it out of the way and smile, pulling the soft, warm body of his witch closer.

And when he bound himself to her, as tightly as the ribbon tied round their hands, her fingers slipped between his own and he knew love like he had never before.


	21. Colour of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Colour of Love  
> Rating: Mature  
> Word Count: 464  
> Warnings/tags: Angst, Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [PartyLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartyLines/pseuds/PartyLines)

He gargled blushing velvet-red and laid a hand against the mottled black of bruising creeping across his chest. Smoke billowed from the castle’s wreckage and wrapped its thieving fingers around his last hope of clemency. 

Somehow, he imagined that _she_ would come for him; would march right through the line of Death Eaters—all pluck and stupid courage and shrill commands—and _make_ him go with her. 

She didn’t. 

She fought her fight and he fought his, and somehow the stream of orange from her wand had found his body and he’d not had time to find her eyes before he fell. Clawing at the mud and rock and bits of sharp, blown-to-pieces forest beneath him, he’d closed his eyes against the ache in his gut and the regret that clogged his throat.

And he waited. 

He waited until the burning smell reached him, and the crunching of trees and shrieking of spells seemed to twist into the whisper of flickering flames as though they were lapping at his skin instead of the school. 

He waited until he almost convinced himself that the flashing colours—all seeping together into the black—were her face hovering above him. 

He waited until there was no more colour and the black was icy fog against his skin. 

As his veins began to tighten against the cold, a sound danced out from underneath the sudden silence, and he fought to get up—hands slipping on moss and feet wedged in debris. The sound chased him as he writhed, and its soft, silken caress calmed his racing heart. 

“Draco!” 

When he heard it for a second time he barked a bubble of a laugh, spraying his angel with glowing droplets of viscous, lively blood. 

She was on top of him before he managed a response, sending shards of agony through his torso. He reached a hand to the dangling ends of her soaking-wet hair and pulled her down so she could hear him. “Granger—Hermione,” he rasped. “I’m—I’m sorry. I should’ve walked—should’ve walked away.” 

Her tears fell thick and heavy onto his face. The sting of salt on his lips reminded him of another time—the year before—when they’d been _his_ tears, and she’d coughed awkwardly and turned on her heal to leave. 

She hadn’t left then, and she’d found him again. 

Warm fingers enclosed his shaking hand, and she dropped something soft and delicate into his palm before lacing their fingers together. One of the petals jammed between their thumbs and he knew what it was and what it meant. He drew in a deep, crushing breath and clung to her and the rose he’d given her when he’d known—velvet-red and rich, pooling black. 

“I love you anyway,” she whispered, and he let go.

**Author's Note:**

> [VOTE HERE](https://forms.gle/MAkGRRDdaZofvQry6)


End file.
